Shooting
by Rivan Warrioress
Summary: Set between Batman forever and Batman and Robin. A certain bat worries, and blames himself, when his little feathered friend's life is endangered for the first time.


Batman watched, his eyes wide, horrified, as he saw Robin slump to the ground, unmoving

Batman watched, his eyes wide, horrified, as he saw Robin slump to the ground, unmoving. The gunshot echoed in his mind, along with a single continuous thought.

'_Not the kid, oh God, please not the kid'_

"Robin!" he called out, only to hear the gunman's laughter. Batman charged forward, jumping over Robin's body. He felt his fist connect with the gunman's jaw with a satisfying crunch. Batman kicked out, winding the gunman, causing him to double over trying to draw a breath. This was the opportunity Batman had been waiting for. He smacked his hand down hard upon the gunman's head, heard enough to knock him out, but not hard enough to kill him.

Satisfied that the gunman was unconscious, Batman ran to Robin's side. Blood was running from the gunshot wound in the younger man's chest, and Batman presses his gloved hand upon the wound, pressing down.

"Robin, Robin, wake up, c'mon, wake up kid." Batman begged Robin, focused on his friends pale face. He knew that Robin was still alive, the continuing flow of blood told him that, but Batman knew that he needed help, fast. He ran his other hand over Robin's head, cupping his cheek gently. Robin's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Batman, what happened" he asked groggily. Batman almost cried when he heard the pain in those words.

"You got shot in the chest. I'm going to take you home." Batman explained

"It hurts like a mother bitch. Everything's all fuzzy"

"Stay awake, alright, just focus on my voice"

Robin coughed, and Batman muttered a curse as blood began running from Robin's mouth, bright red, staining his pale skin and pooling on the concrete pathway they were on. Ripping a strip from his cape, Batman began the task of bandaging the gunshot wound. The flow of blood had slowed, but it was still running. Batman was concentrating on his task so much, that he failed to see Robin's eyes slide closed.

"Robin, talk to me partner" Batman said, still concentrating on his task. It was only when his request was met by silence that he flicked his gaze upwards to Robin's face.

"Robin! Don't do this, don't quit. Stay with me" Batman begged, running his gloved hand over Robin's pale cheek once more. Biting down on his lip, Batman raced over to where Robin's motorcycle was propped. He wheeled it over to where the Batmobile was parked. Pressing a concealed button, Batman stepped back as a set of metal poles poked out of the side of the car. After pressing a button on the motorbike's control panel, Batman pushed the bike up onto the poles, securing it to the car. Satisfied that it wouldn't come loose, Batman turned and sprinted back to where Robin lay, still unconscious. Batman bent, gathering the younger man up in his arms, and carried him back to the Batmobile. Robin whimpered when Batman settled him into the Batmobile, but Batman ignored him, getting into the car himself. He keyed a code into the video transmitter built into the cars dashboard.

"Commissioner Gordon?"

"Batman, what is it?"

"Robin and I have taken down the gunman. He's at the corner of 13th and Holloway rd. I need to take Robin back home, there's been an accident." Batman said, starting the Batmobile's engines

"Alright, thanks for your help, Batman. Anything I can do to assist"

"No, thank-you for the offer though. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Batman"

Batman ended the communication and checked Robin's pulse and breathing. Both were much weaker than he would have liked. Batman accelerated, and the shiny black car shot off into the night, even as the distinct wailing of police cars could be heard in the distance.

BM BM BM BM BM

Batman carried Robin from the Batmobile, having alerted Alfred to the emergency as he drove back towards Wayne Manor. The elderly butler had immediately gathered the first aid supplies, and taken them up to Dick's room, where it would be more comfortable for him to sleep, and recover. Batman felt odd as he carried the still unconscious Robin through the manor, as if the part of the manor that was above ground should be completely disconnected to his double life as Batman. He was, however glad that Robin was surprisingly light. Finally, they reached Dick's bedroom, and Batman lowered Robin onto his bed, removing the younger man's mask as he straitened his back. In Batman's opinion, it made him look years younger, and so much more helpless. Alfred bent down, removing Batman's cape, which had served up until now as a bandage. The wound was no longer bleeding, but still looked painful, and sore. Batman winced, pulling off his cowl, and returning to his persona of Bruise Wayne.

"How is he?" he asked, wishing he could do more.

"Surprisingly well, all things considered." Alfred replied, cleaning the wound with an antiseptic healing lotion, mixed with water. Even in his unconscious state, Dick winced as the mixture made the wound sting. With Bruce's help, Alfred rolled the youth over, and repeated the cleaning with the exit wound that marked Robins back. The two men then stripped Robin's costume off the unconscious youth, putting his pajama bottoms on him.

Gathering up Robin's costume, Alfred left, sensing that Bruce wanted to be alone with Dick. Once he was sure the old man had left, Bruce sat on the edge of Dick's bed, gripping the younger mans hand tightly.

"I'm so sorry. I should have looked after you, protected you, better. I don't know what I'd do if you die. Please, Dick, come back" Bruce hated how young and pathetic he sounded. Dick would be killing himself laughing if he'd been able to hear what Bruce was saying.

"Look, I know I'm hard on you, but I'm just trying to protect you. I don't want to see you get hurt, and tonight, I failed that. You've become like my little brother, and I can't forgive myself for letting you get hurt." Bruce paused, rubbing Dick's hand reassuringly. The youth looked so young and innocent, lying there.

"Please, friend, partner, brother, don't leave me. You're too young to go like this. You've got so much to live for, you can't give up now. Please," Bruce realized that their was tears running down his face, "Please don't go." He begged. Deep inside, he knew that if Robin died now, part of Batman would die with him. It would be closer than any of those other villains Batman had faced had ever come to tearing the life from his body, by taking his little brother, his partner, his friend, away from him. If Robin died, although e was still needed, Batman wondered if he would be able to continue. A sudden image flashed in his mind. Batman, burnt, broken and bleeding, in some deserted street, Robin's mask clasped in one hand. A criminal, standing over him, gun in hand, laughing hysterically. A gunshot. Blackness. Bruce shuddered, and suddenly, he's back in Dick's room, watching over his brother, holding tightly onto his hand. Bruce blinked, and leant against the headboard of Dick's bed, as close as he could to his friend. Bruce moved his hand onto Dick's shoulder, leaning back, and closing his eyes.

BM BM BM BM BM

Bruce groggily opened his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight that streamed through the window. He groaned, suddenly realizing why he was sitting on the edge of Dick's bed. He hurriedly glanced down at his friend. Dick was still unconscious, but the colour had returned to his face, and his breathing had evened out. Wincing as he moved his stiff muscles, Bruce slipped of the bed, careful not to disturb his partner. He nearly swore when he saw that it was almost Ten o'clock. At that moment, Alfred walked in.

"Ah, Master Bruce, you're awake. When will you like to have your breakfast?"

"Breakfast, Alfred, I have to get to Work!" Bruce furiously whispered.

"I took the liberty of calling and saying you were taking a well deserved day off. Is that alright, sir?"

"Thank-you, Alfred. I don't know how I would have been able to do it, with Dick the way he is." Bruce thanked his faithful butler.

"Alfred, if he doesn't make it, I don't know what I'll do."

As I remember telling young master Dick, not so long ago, broken wings mend, in time. Robin will fly again, of that I'm sure"

"Alfred, I let him get shot. It's my fault."

"No sir, it is not. Master Dick is still learning, and he is entitled to making mistakes every now and again. This was just a little mistake on his behalf, and may I remind you, sir, that you too are learning what it is like having a Partner. You both just happened to make a mistake at the same time. Accidents happen."

"But, this is the closest I've ever come to loosing him, Alfred. It's been almost 10 hours. He should have at lease woken up by now."

As if on queue, Robin groaned, whimpering slightly. Bruce turned facing his friend, no; he corrected himself, his brother, and took hold of Dick's hand once more, gripping it firmly.

"Dick, c'mon Dick, you can do it, open you eyes for me." They were both plunged into semi darkness when Alfred closed the curtains, knowing that Master Dick's eyes would be very sensitive to the light. Bruce waited, holding his breath, as Dick seemed to roll his head towards his voice, groaning. Bruce grimly smiled when he felts Dicks hand grip his own tightly.

"Bruce?" Dick groggily asked, opening his eyes blearily. Bruce smiled.

"Thank god, Dick, I was so worried. I'm sorry"

"Did we get him?" Bruce was momentarily confused, until he realized that Dick was referring to the gunman.

"Yeah, we got him." He smiled. And Dick smiled weakly back up at him.


End file.
